Substitute Santa
by Tex-chan
Summary: As a favor to Manx, Aya and Yohji take an undercover job at a Tokyo department store to catch a pick pocket. Unfortunately, the assignment forces Aya to tap into his nonexistent holiday spirit in order to portray Santa. Will he survive long enough to ca


**Substitute Santa**

_(a wk Christmas fic by tex-chan)_

_**Warnings:**__ Bad Language, Some violence, CrackFic!_

_**Summary: **__As a favor to Manx, Aya and Yohji take an undercover job at a Tokyo department store to catch a pick pocket. Unfortunately, the assignment forces Aya to tap into his (nonexistent) holiday spirit in order to portray Santa. Will he survive long enough to catch the thief?_

_**Legal Stuff:**__ As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it._

_**Author's Note:**__ I readily admit this story is just a bit of holiday fun. It is pretty much total crack fic, but I had fun writing it. I hope someone out there has fun reading it, too._

Aya cursed under his breath and wondered, for the umpteen-millionth time that day, how he had gotten himself into this situation. He stared at the cosmetics counter across from him. His reflection, trapped within the counter's mirrored surface, showed him living proof of just how dire things had become. Never, in a million years, would he have dreamed he'd find himself sitting on a huge, wooden, throne-like chair in the middle of a department store, dressed as Santa Claus. And yet, here he was -- and here he had been, for three days straight. He was beginning to think this torture would never end. His reflection showed him the gaudy chair with the blue upholstery and the gilded arms and legs, the red suit, black belt, and clunky boots -- complete with huge buckles and a silly hat, and, as if all of that wasn't enough, the ridiculous, flowing white wig and fake beard. Aya scowled at his reflection, and Santa-Aya scowled back at him.

Being in the middle of a crowded department store was bad enough. He hated the hustle and bustle of the crowds and the way people wandered around like zombies -- rubbing elbows and bumping into each other as they became increasingly distracted by the items available for purchase and the department store's shiny, garish displays. Aya was a firm believer in a healthy radius of personal space, which was something this milling, pushing mass of humanity made impossible. He made it a habit to avoid these types of large, overstuffed stores, just on principle. He hated the canned music. He hated the recycled air. He hated the way every noise echoed from the multitude of hard surfaces around him -- the mirrored display counters, the tile floors, the metal in the escalators, the glass in the doors. It made him feel like he was surrounded and, yet, alone -- cut off from his senses as the echoes fooled his hearing and the bright, blinking displays dazzled his eyes.

Now, though, it was worse than ever. Christmas season, such as it was in Japan, was in full swing. The store was more crowded than normal. And, for the past three days, Aya had found himself the center of more attention than he would have ever wished for. He was a denizen of the dark. Someone who lurked in the shadows. A hunter of dark beasts. Not some doofus who willingly put on a bright red suit and sat in the middle of a crowded store -- out in the open where everyone could see him.

And yet, today, he felt every bit the doofus he appeared to be. He had done his best to shove his angst aside, telling himself it was just part of the job -- it was just something he had to live through. And, for a while, it had worked. But, today had been much worse than any of the other days on which he had suffered through the whole Santa ordeal. The store was too crowded. The suit was too hot. It itched -- and smelled, oddly enough, like wet dog. Aya didn't want to think about how it had acquired that unique odor. One kid had bitten him, and he was sure he was going to catch something. Could children be rabid? Another had piddled on Aya's leg while sitting on his lap, leading Aya to believe leak-proof pants should be mandatory for anyone under the age of three. And, there was still a sizeable line of children, all waiting to have their picture taken with Santa -- each child accompanied by a doting, over-indulgent parent armed with the kind of heavy-duty, expensive photographic equipment that was best left to professionals. The parents were pushy. The kids were whiny and unhappy. Aya had a headache from the constant zap and zing of flash bulbs going off in his face. Not to mention he wasn't happy about the thought that there were now hundreds of photos of him out there -- even if he was disguised in a too-fuzzy beard, silly hat, and moth-eaten red suit. His eyes narrowed in an irritated scowl as, again, he wondered how the hell he had ended up here.

"Careful, Santa. You're scaring the children."

Yohji's tone of voice was teasing and light. Aya could hear the hidden laughter curling around the words that seemed to slide out of Yohji's mouth like liquid gold. It did nothing to lighten Aya's mood, but, then again, Aya was certain that hadn't been Yohji's intention.

And, of course, that brought Aya's mind right back to the reason he was in this predicament. Like always, it seemed his trouble began and ended with Yohji. Well, not just Yohji, if he were to be fair. Manx's cousin, who managed the department store, had come to her for help with a little pick-pocket problem -- a delicate matter with the holiday shopping in full swing, since people might stay away from his store if they found out about the sudden string of thefts. Manx had then taken the problem to the one place where she knew she would find some sort of solution: Weiss. And, of course, Yohji had never been able to resist a damsel in distress. Even when the "damsel" was Manx, a woman even Yohji acknowledged could chew any of them up and spit them out -- probably without even breaking a nail or messing up her make up. All of which led, somehow, to Aya sitting in the middle of a crowded store wearing a Santa suit for three days running. It was like being stuck in the tenth circle of hell. Or worse.

Aya turned to glare at his partner. Yohji looked even more absurd than he did, decked out as one of Santa's "helpers". Knee-length green shorts worn over tights with two-toned green stripes. A form-fitting, long-sleeved t-shirt, also in two tones of dark and light green. A green vest, a goofy-looking, pointy green hat with a little white puffball on the end, and green shoes that had red jingle bells affixed to the ends of their curly toes. Yohji had, of course, insisted on wearing his sunglasses. The utter ridiculousness of Yohji's costume might have provided Aya some solace, except for the fact that, somehow, Yohji made the outlandish outfit work. As always, Yohji seemed comfortable and at ease with the situation and the goofy clothes -- so much so that he nearly made being a six-foot tall elf look cool. Aya's scowl deepened as he thought about how much he hated this uncanny ability of Yohji's. The only consolation he could find was the thought that Yohji was due some big payback. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but sometime soon -- preferably when Yohji was least expecting it.

Aya sighed as Yohji stepped forward and waved to the next child in line, signaling it was their turn to approach Santa's chair. He muttered curse words under his breath as a tall, gangly boy approached.

"I'm not doing this," Aya said, directing his whispered words toward Yohji.

"You don't have a choice, Santa," Yohji said, pausing long enough to give Aya a cheery smile -- the kind of smile that made Aya think about killing someone.

"Fuck that," Aya muttered. "How old is this kid? Twenty? Twenty-five?"

Yohji chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sure he's no older than …" His voice trailed off as he took another look at the boy, and he shrugged. "Yeah, so he's a bit older than the norm. Maybe he's a late bloomer -- or something. Besides, his mom is here, too. All ready to take a picture, which means she already paid her money. It's store policy." Yohji paused for a moment before adding, "I almost feel sorry for this kid. I'll bet he gets beaten up at school -- a lot."

Aya only had time to nod before the boy stood in front of him, wearing an expression that vacillated between nervous and embarrassed. He sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Aya glared at him.

"How old are you?" Aya asked.

"Thir … thirteen," the boy stammered.

"Go home," Aya said, waving his hand before him in an impatient motion that indicated, in no uncertain terms, the kid should head for the exit without an argument. And without looking back.

"But, my mom says …" the boy began, his voice trailing off in the face of Aya's angry scowl.

"Go home," Aya repeated.

"But, my mom," the boy said again. "She'll never let me hear the end of this."

"Trust me," Aya said, "It's worth the hell she'll put you through. I'm doing you a favor, and you'll thank me later."

"Yeah," Yohji said, leaning over Aya's shoulder to give the boy a good-natured, lopsided grin. "You like girls, right?" When the boy nodded, Yohji continued, "Sitting on Santa's lap doesn't exactly make you popular with the fairer sex."

The boy seemed relieved. He hadn't been all too enthusiastic about the whole Santa thing, either. But he continued to look back at his mother, who stood at the end of the carpet leading to Santa's throne. She had her camera ready, and she kept smiling and nodding at the boy, gesturing toward Aya's lap. The smile was deceptive. It looked friendly and harmless -- maybe even a little ditzy. But beneath that, Aya was certain, lurked the kind of overzealous mother who made her son's life a living hell at every turn. She might have done it unintentionally, but that didn't change the fact she was likely this boy's biggest social stumbling block. And, until the kid learned to stand up to her, he would continue being pantzed in gym and ignored by the girls he longed to date. It was harsh, but someone had to step in. Besides, this kid looked heavy. There was no way he was getting within a mile of actually sitting on Aya's lap. The pants-wetting kid and the biter had been bad enough. Aya had to draw the line somewhere.

"Hit the road, kid," Aya said, jerking his thumb toward the line's exit.

"But, my mom …" the boy began.

"Do I have to hurt you?" Aya asked. He didn't bother to hide the threat in his voice.

The kid looked shaken. The color drained from his face, and his eyes widened in shock and fear. It was the most amusing thing that had happened since he and Yohji had taken this stupid job, and Aya wondered what it said about his personality that he could take such giddy joy in torturing a teenager. Even if the kid deserved it. Still, Aya figured he had to take his little pleasures where he could get them. The boy stared at Aya for another second or two, looking as if he was going to argue -- which just proved how terrified the kid had to be of his mother. In the end, he decided Aya was the bigger threat, and he darted for the exit. His mother waited for an additional couple of seconds, staring at the empty spot her son had just vacated. Then, she, too, wandered off, a bewildered and slightly agitated expression on her face.

"See?" Yohji said, the words riding out of his mouth on a low, throaty chuckle, "We're not the most fucked up people in the world. Hell, even in Tokyo."

Aya was about to comment that it was small consolation, when he felt Yohji squeeze his shoulder. Yohji's tension conveyed through the personal contact, and Aya felt himself instantly go on guard. He followed the direction of Yohji's gaze and saw their pick pocket, working the edge of a crowd that had gathered around one of the cosmetic counters to watch a demonstration.

"Heads up," Yohji muttered. The teasing was gone, and he was all business now that he had sighted their quarry.

"Yeah, I see him," Aya replied.

"He's too far away," Yohji said. "We'll never get to him in time."

"Screw that. I'm not doing this for another day. We catch him today, or Manx's cousin is out of luck," Aya said.

Yohji glanced down at his partner. He had heard the hard edge of desperation in Aya's voice. And he knew Aya was serious. Yohji looked around, searching for anything they could use to clear a path through the crowd. There were two bags of toys, trinkets, and candy next to Aya's chair -- the prizes Santa was supposed to give the kids after they had sat on his lap and had their picture taken. Yohji knew Manx's cousin -- and, by default, Manx -- would be pissed. But, desperate times called for desperate measures. He had had his fun over seeing Aya dressed up as Santa and forced to entertain snotty-nosed kids and their irritating parents. But enough was enough. At this point, Aya's sanity was on the line -- and Aya wasn't the most stable person, to begin with.

"Your wish is my command, Santa," Yohji said, grabbing the nearest bag.

He stepped away from Aya's chair and moved the bag in a wide arc, tossing its contents over most of the floor and display area. He dropped the first bag once it was empty, immediately grabbing the second one and repeating the process with it. He turned to look at Aya as chaos erupted around them. Every child in the area began squealing in delight as they dove for the toys and candy. Every parent started yelling as they ran after their kids. Aya's and Yohji's gazes locked. They grinned at each other and launched themselves from Santa's throne -- right into the middle of the melee.

It wasn't hard to reach the pick pocket. He had been caught off guard by the commotion and stood frozen, his hand stuffed in the pocket of a man who had, moments before, been leaning over the cosmetics counter to get a closer look at the products stored there. To his credit, it didn't take the thief long to get moving. He saw Santa and a giant elf heading toward him, elbowing their way through the crushing mass of people cluttering the floor space, and he put two and two together at light speed. He turned and ran.

Working on the kind of instincts that came from years of killing together, Aya and Yohji automatically split up. Aya glanced up long enough to see Yohji's signal, confirming that Yohji would go right, toward Men's Wear, while he circled around the left, toward the House Wares section. With any luck, they should trap the pick pocket between them, bringing him to ground near the escalators.

Once he was clear of the craziness he and Yohji had created in the "Santa's Wonderland" area of the store, Aya tried to pick up speed. It wasn't easy. In spite of their undercover operation, Manx's cousin had insisted on as much realism as possible. He had taken one look at Aya and pronounced him too skinny to be believable as Santa -- never mind there was no such thing as "too skinny" when you were hired to catch a thief … or when you were an assassin. In the interest of having a believable Santa, Manx's cousin had stuffed Aya's suit with extra padding. A lot of extra padding, all of which made running more of a challenge than usual. Especially when combined with the clunky black boots that made Aya corner like a dump truck.

He skidded around the edge of a cook ware display, waving his arms for balance as he tried to negotiate all the extra padding in his suit. He cut the corner too sharp and hit the display, cringing as he heard the crash and clatter of pots and pans hitting the floor, followed by the yelling of an angry store clerk. Aya ignored it and kept running. He had the pick pocket in sight now, and he knew Yohji was close by. He could hear the tell-tale jingling of the bells on Yohji's elf shoes; the jingles got progressively closer, and Aya realized the plan was working. They would all intersect at the escalators. He cursed under his breath and forced his legs to move faster. He had to be there in time. He could not leave his partner exposed; it was the first rule they had all learned; it was the one rule that kept them alive night after night; and it was so ingrained that it had become second nature. Aya would do whatever he had to do to make sure he was at the right place at the right time -- when Yohji needed him. He hurtled a stationery display, scattering notepads, sparkly pens, envelopes, and cards in his wake.

The thief was there, at the top of the escalator. Aya was twenty steps away, then ten, then five, and he launched himself after the pick pocket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yohji do the same. They hit the guy at the same time -- a double flying tackle that sent all three of them tumbling down the escalator in a tangle of arms, legs, and smelly red suit.

It felt like the fall took forever, as if eternity had spun to a halt in order to watch the three of them free fall down the slow-moving escalator. Aya ended up on the bottom, which meant he took the brunt of each impact as they tumbled from step to step, all the way to the foot of the meandering stairs. He ignored the pain, most of which was dulled by the extra padding Manx's cousin had stuffed into the Santa suit, and tried to hold on as he watched the department store zip by in a lazy whirl of indistinguishable colors, sights, and sounds.

They reached the foot of the stairs and landed with a solid, hard thud that drove the breath from Aya's lungs. He lay there for a moment, too stunned to move. The pick pocket had landed on top of him, and Yohji, somehow, had fallen clear of both of them. The thief took advantage of Aya's momentary paralysis to free himself. He elbowed Aya in the side of the head and kneed him in the gut as he scrambled for freedom. Aya tried to hang on, but it was all he could do just to keep breathing. He felt the pick pocket's pants leg slip through his fingers and could do nothing to stop the man's escape.

Luckily, Yohji was there. He ran at the guy from the right, enveloping him in a messy tackle, but the pick pocket was slippery -- and determined to get away. He continued running, doing his best to stumble through Yohji's grip.

"I can't hold him!" Yohji snapped.

He risked turning his attention away from the pick pocket long enough to assure himself Aya had recovered. He felt a surge of relief when he saw Aya trying to stumble to his feet. They had landed hard, and Yohji had seen the expression of shock and pain that had crossed Aya's face. And then, Aya had been so still. Too still. He shuddered at the thought, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. The thief was doing his best to fight his way clear, and he was getting closer to the exit by the second. If he made it to the door, they would lose him.

"Use your wire!" Aya said, his voice hoarse and ragged as he panted for breath.

Yohji gave Aya his best you're-shitting-me look as he yelled back, "What wire? Elves don't kill people -- people kill people."

Aya groaned at Yohji's ridiculous joke. Even now, when they were on the verge of losing their quarry, Yohji was making wise cracks. Unbelievable. He glanced around, searching for anything he could use to tie up the pick pocket. Once the guy was subdued, he would become store security's problem, and this stupid job would finally be over and done with. And not a moment too soon, as far as Aya was concerned. And yet there was nothing. No rope. No string. Not even a piece of twine or a little school girl with ribbons in her hair. Just as he felt his last shred of sanity begin to slip away from him -- a casualty to this ludicrous caper and the smelly, too-padded Santa suit -- Aya saw something out of the corner of his eye: a bright, blinking twinkle a little ways away, in the display of Christmas decorations.

"Just hang on to him!" Aya yelled, scrambling to his feet and heading for the decorations as quickly as his clunky boots would carry him.

He thought he heard Yohji yell something like, "Easier said than done, asshole". But, by that time, Aya was already in the middle of the decorations. He grabbed the first string of blinking lights he saw, upsetting a display of Santa statues as he yanked the lights from their plug. He allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction at the sight of the Claus carnage -- broken heads, arms, and body parts scattered across the floor -- before heading back to where Yohji and the still-squirming pick pocket waited.

With the two of them working at it, it only took a second or two to subdue the thief. Yohji sat on the guy while Aya twined the Christmas lights around him, tying off his hands and legs and taking a couple of extra wraps of the wire around the guy's body -- just to be safe. He yanked off his Santa hat and the attached wig and used them as an impromptu gag, smirking with pleasure at the pick pocket's muffled protests as he stuffed the end of the hat into the guy's mouth. Once the thief was tied up and gagged, Aya nodded at Yohji, silently telling him to get off. He dragged the thief to the nearest outlet and plugged the lights in, smiling as they burst into life. They twinkled merrily -- a stark contrast to the bitter expression on the pick pocket's face. Aya figured it wasn't nearly enough payback for the chase this guy had led them on -- not to mention three days of wearing a stinky, itchy Santa suit and dealing with all those kids. And their parents.

Aya sighed as he slumped to the ground, leaning against the nearest display case. Yohji joined him, sinking down so they sat shoulder-to-shoulder. He laughed under his breath as he straightened his sunglasses, which the pick pocket had knocked askew in the struggle, and, somehow, managed to retrieve a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes. He shook out one of the sticks and held the pack out to Aya -- a silent offering. Aya's eyes narrowed in an irritated expression as he shook his head in refusal.

"What?" Yohji asked.

"You don't bring your wire, but you manage to find some place in that ridiculous outfit to stick your cigarettes," Aya said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Yohji shrugged. "Hey, you make room for what's important, right? Anyhow, what's done is done. I mean, that went pretty well, don't you think?"

"You suck," Aya muttered.

He didn't look at Yohji, but he heard the click of Yohji's lighter, followed by the tiny crackle of Yohji's cigarette. Seconds later, he heard the soft sigh of Yohji's breath and smelled the familiar, earthy scent of Yohji's favorite tobacco. Aya sighed as he thought that, maybe, he should have taken a cigarette, after all. He kind of wanted one now, but he was too stubborn to say anything. As always, Yohji seemed to read his thoughts. Or, maybe, Yohji just knew him too well. Whatever the reason, Yohji sighed and shook his head, silently handing over his already-lit cigarette. Aya smiled -- a ghost of a half smile -- as he took it and shrugged his thanks. He heard the sounds of Yohji lighting up again, and the two of them sat there for several minutes, smoking in silence and listening to the sounds of the store around them as they watched the Christmas lights blink on and off, on and off.

"They're kind of cheerful, aren't they?" Yohji asked, after a little while.

"Yeah, I guess," Aya said, shrugging. He paused long enough to take another drag from his cigarette before continuing, "I'm just glad this asshole didn't get away. I couldn't take another day in this stupid suit." He cursed under his breath as he pulled the fake beard off and tossed it aside.

"I dunno," Yohji said, shrugging as he blew a long stream of smoke in the air above his head. "I might ask if I can keep this outfit. I've got a date later. I think she might enjoy a little game of naughty and nice."

"Naughty boys apparently get a lump of coal in their stockings," Aya said. "At least, according to tradition."

"Maybe. But, that's not all naughty boys get," Yohji quipped, smiling as he heard the soft sound of Aya laughing at his joke.

"You're such a fucker," Aya said, but his laughter canceled out the harshness of the words.

"So, you ever think of having one?" Yohji asked, the words riding out of his mouth on another stream of smoke.

"A string of Christmas lights?" Aya replied, blowing his own stream of smoke before he continued. "Yeah. You know, they're really pretty useful. It's surprising how many things you can tie up with them."

Yohji gave him a strange look -- the kind of expression that seemed to say Aya had just grown an extra nose from his forehead -- and shook his head. "What the hell kind of bedroom games have you been playing?" he wondered aloud, pausing as a new thought hit him. "Oooh! And can I come play, too?" he teased. He laughed as Aya blushed and muttered an unintelligible come back under his breath. "I meant," he said, bumping Aya with his shoulder, "kids. Did you ever think of having a kid?"

"Hell no," Aya said, the reply coming almost instantly. "They suck the fun out of everything. Wasn't this Santa fiasco proof of that?" He sighed and shook his head as he continued, "What would I do with a kid? Teach him -- or her -- the family business so they could follow in my footsteps and carry on with ridding the world of dark beasts? Besides, I doubt I'll live long enough to have to worry about any of that."

Aya's voice got quiet as his words trailed off, leading Yohji to suspect Aya's lack of desire for children had more to do with how he perceived himself as, somehow, unfit to be a parent than anything else -- no matter how much he insisted he hated kids.

"Yeah, well, I definitely plan on living long enough to have one. Maybe more than one," Yohji said.

Aya laughed, a soft noise, almost hidden beneath the sound of another stream of smoke leaving his lips. "That's a frightening thought. Another little Yotan running around, chasing tail and drinking his way through this side of eternity."

"What can I say?" Yohji asked, his voice taking on a smug tone, "My genes can't be denied. They must live on."

"How do you know they haven't already?" Aya asked. He glanced over to see Yohji giving him an eyebrows raised, questioning expression. "How do you know you don't already have a kid out there? Or two? Or three? Or twenty? After all, you're the one who's out making a list of everyone who's naughty and nice on a nightly basis, right?"

Yohji's previously smug expression fell as his face reshaped itself into a look of shock-tinged fear at the thought that he might already be a daddy. He shuddered and stubbed out his spent cigarette, reaching for a replacement almost immediately. "Talk about sucking the fun out of everything," Yohji muttered, his words muffled as he cupped his hands around his mouth to shield his lighter's flame. He took a few puffs before adding, "You're a bad, bad Santa."

"Ho, ho, ho," Aya replied, unable to choke back his laughter as Yohji told him to fuck off. Maybe it was going to be a merry Christmas, after all.

**~End**


End file.
